Simply the best monologue ever! Ricky Roma (Al Pacino) and James Lingk (Jonathan Pryce). Written by David Mamet, directed by James Foley.

All train compartments smell vaguely of shit. It gets so you don't mind it. That's the worst thing that I can confess. You know how long it took me to get there? A long time. When you die you're gonna regret the things you don't do. You think you're queer? I'm gonna tell you something. We're all queer. You think you're a thief? So what? You get befuddled by a middle-class morality? Get shut of it. Shut it out. You cheat on your wife, you did it. Live with it. You fuck little girls, so be it. There's an absolute morality? Maybe. And then what? If you think there is, go ahead, be that thing. Bad people go to hell? I don't think so. You think that, act that way. A hell exists on earth? Yes. I won't live in it. That's me.

Did you ever take a dump, made you feel like you slept for 12 hours? Great meals fade in reflection. Everything else gains. Do you know why? 'Cause it's only food. This shit we put in us, keeps us going - it's only food. The great fucks you may have had, what do you remember about them? I don't know. For me, I'm saying what it is, it's probably not the orgasm. Some broad's forearm on your neck, something her eyes did. There was this sound she made. Or it's me in the - I'm telling you - I'm in bed the next day, she brought me café au lait, gives me a cigarette, my balls feel like concrete.

What I'm saying, what is our life? Our life is looking forward or it's looking back. That's it. That's our life. Where's the moment? And what is it we're so afraid of? Loss. What else? The bank closes, we get sick, my wife died on a plane? The stock market collapsed? What of these things happen? None of them. We worry anyway. Why?